The Ghost Who Was Bad at Haunting

The legend of the Brambleton Farmhouse was known far and wide. Locals whispered of “The Specter of Room 3”, a pale figure that appeared in the dead of night to frighten intruders into madness.

What the locals didn’t know was that the ghost’s real name was Frank… and he was terrible at his job.

Frank had died in 1923 in what could generously be described as “a freak ladder accident” and less generously described as “trying to get a jar of pickles from the top shelf after three glasses of gin.”

When he awoke on the other side, the Ghostly Union assigned him to Brambleton Farmhouse, a “starter haunting” for newly deceased spirits.

His haunting career began with enthusiasm… and immediate failure.

Night 1:

Frank tried the classic flickering lights routine. He meant to create a menacing atmosphere, but instead, he flickered them too quickly and accidentally triggered the farmhouse’s fuse box, plunging the house into total darkness.

The visiting couple left—not from fear—but because they couldn’t find the bathroom.

Night 5:

Frank decided to wail mournfully in the attic. The problem was, he’d lost his ghostly voice mid-scream (too much spectral dust in his throat). It came out less “haunting moan” and more “wheezy kazoo.”

The intruders laughed for ten minutes straight.

Night 12:

Determined to step up his game, Frank attempted the terrifying “slowly-moving object across the floor” trick. He picked an old rocking chair. Unfortunately, his ghostly telekinesis was… unreliable.

The chair flew straight into the wall and got stuck there.

By the time the next group of thrill-seekers arrived—a group of college kids with too much Red Bull and too little self-preservation—Frank was desperate to prove himself.

They stomped up the stairs, laughing and filming for their YouTube channel.

Frank decided to manifest in the hallway—full apparition, glowing eyes, misty aura. He’d been practicing for weeks.

He drifted forward.

The students turned the corner.

And Frank got stuck halfway through the wall.

“Uh… is that… a ghost?” one of them asked, zooming in on their phone.

Frank tried to growl, but it came out like a hiccup.

The students laughed so hard one of them dropped their camera.

“This is going viral!” another shouted.

The footage hit the internet that night.

Title: “Friendly Casper’s Awkward Cousin”.

Millions of views.

The Ghostly Union was furious.

They called Frank into the spectral HR department. “We cannot have another ‘incident,’” the stern ghost supervisor said. “You’re making us look like amateurs.”

Frank sighed. “Maybe I’m just… not scary?”

The supervisor pinched the bridge of his transparent nose. “Then be useful. I’m reassigning you.”

“To where?” Frank asked hopefully.

“To the haunted laundromat downtown. You’ll… shuffle socks. And maybe slam a dryer door every now and then.”

And so Frank’s haunting career shifted from trying to terrify mortals to confusing them in mildly inconvenient ways.

Pairs of socks vanished mysteriously. Laundry detergent bottles tipped over for no reason. Sometimes, a faint kazoo sound echoed through the dryer vents.

No one ran screaming.

But every now and then, someone would stop mid-fold, glance at the corner, and swear they saw a faint, embarrassed ghost waving shyly.